river of crimson
by silver moon droplet
Summary: anastasia : Sadly, it’s one of those tales, rusting old and weary as time drags on, and things only get older.


**Well that was weird, I really don't like this one mainly because I had a hard time writing this because all I could picture was myself being all emo. Curse the person who made cinderella and stole mah name! anyways this was for lunamaria's contest (I think it still is, I don't know if I like it enough yet.) **

disclaimers : I don't own Disney stuff betch. 

She awaited the day her prince charming would swept her off her feet, but he's not there and he's not coming. She was just an ugly step sister, so wicked that she would end up alone, old and forgotten. Her mother didn't care, she only wanted power and fame, Drusilla wanted royalty and riches. Cinderella, she was too busy in her own fairytale to pay old Anastasia any mind. So Anastasia would try and try, but she would always fail, because the fairy godmother could only see the wickedness in her heart. She was good, she just had a late reaction to being good, but nobody could see that, she sighed.

Carrying the laundry to her mother's room, how long ago he this been Cinderella's job? She couldn't remember it seemed so long ago. She wondered if any animals would come and sing for her, that she could make friends with them. She shook her head, what a silly idea. She run down the steps, going to finish the dishes when she tripped over Lucifer, he yellowed at her as she tumbled down the steps. Tumbling down, down until she was in the foyer, all alone once more. Tears ran down her face it wasn't fair, why didn't she get her happily ever after! She clenched her fist in anger. She stood up, brushing herself off, heading to the kitchen to finish the dishes, why didn't her mother just get a maid for this? Why didn't her mother just higher a stupid poor person off the streets, Anastasia was her daughter! If her mother wanted her to be a princess so badly – maybe she should start treating her like one.

Anger pumped through her veins, she began to throw the dishes on the floor, shattering glass was everywhere. It didn't matter, she would just pick it up later, she huffed her fury dying off. She didn't want to pick it up, glass it reminded her so much of the slippers her step-sister had worn at a magnificent ball. Anastasia yelped when she cut her finger on a piece, it stung for a moment, and the blood trickled down her finger. She stared at the red substance, fascinated with it, she grabbed the broken glass and squeezed it with her hands. Pain shot through her, but she liked it this time, the adrenaline rushing through her veins. She dropped the glass watching it shattered across the floor. Red hitting the beautiful white floor, she stared at her hands which were oozing with blood, she smiled.

Life wasn't easy, it wasn't as simple as wishing for something to happen – she could wait forever for her prince charming, but he wasn't coming. Sadly, it's one of those tales, rusting old and weary as time drags on, and things only get older. She wouldn't stand for that, besides she would be the fairest dead person anyone has ever laid eyes on. That would teach them that would teach them all, she smeared the blood all over her apron. She liked how the red looked on her white apron, she walked up stairs to her sister's room. Drusilla was brushing her hair, giggling about something when Anastasia came in, she stopped giggling immediately.

"What the hell is _that_?" she asked in disgust, pointing towards her apron.

"Pig's blood, I was making supper." Anastasia replied quietly.

"Oh, what do you want?"

It was strange, with all the time she known her sister, they had never been big on expressing love. They fought, but surely they cared for each other, Anastasia wasn't sure, but she had to at least try.

"I love you."

Drusilla laughed. "Your stupidity never fails to amaze me."

Anastasia smiled, laughing along, turning around and walked out. That was all she needed, she ran outside, tears running down her face. How could a girl so horrible as she, ever be loved – even by her own kin? She grabbed a rock, the biggest one she could find, smiling with the thought – here lies Anastasia daughter, sister, d e a d. She took off her apron and her shoes, walking into the wishing well – the one she used to go to when she had dreams. She took a plummet into the water, the cold bleak water that hit her soft delicate skin, she drew a breath to take it all in. It began to fill her lungs, her body screamed for air, but she gripped the rock she held to her chest tightly. Ignoring the pleas for her lungs, she sank deeper with one thought in her mind.

"I bet I look lovely drowning."


End file.
